I planned on not eating.

But plans seem to dissolve so easily.

J.P. left to head to her dad's.

The last time she left, we kept looking back at each other, seeming to make sure the other was really leaving, like we couldn't believe it.

I was the only one looking back.

I haven't wanted to cut for a while.

Not since March 20th, maybe.

I know it's not that long.

My self-harm hasn't left me, even if the cuts have.

I scratched the last time I wanted to hurt myself.

They took so much longer to heal.

There's one on my ankle that still hasn't.

I know how to deal with cuts.

Cover it up, maybe slap a bandage on it.

I don't know how to deal with scratching off a few layers of my own skin, begging for it bleed.

You can't cover them up.

Then people ask, assume.

Especially when they look like burns.

J.P. keeps telling me how much she hates piercings.

This doesn't really work for me.

I love piercings.

I love wanting them.

I love being empty.

I love Spring Break, even though it's been cold enough for a hoodie.

I think I'm going to treat myself.

Not eat, paint my nails...maybe even cut.

Obviously, I'm going to exercise.

Everyone expects to come back to school after any kind of break weighing more.

I expect to weight less.

I felt writing today, but I couldn't think of anything to write.

I remember why J.P. and I rarely leave each others' side even though I love being alone.

It's more stressful.

I'm more free, sure, but I'll have to come clean for everything I do to myself.

Sure, I could go without eating until Tuesday, when we go to school again, but she'd blame

herself.

I remember when I just didn't care.

Ok, maybe I did care.

I have the scars that say I cared about something enough to dig a razor blade into my flesh and rip it open.

But I remember when I did what I pleased and no one noticed or knew.

Maybe if I get thin enough I'll get something pierced.

I was going to say belly button but then I looked them up and remembered how much I didn't like them.

J.P. told me that she doesn't tell me what upsets her.

How unfair is that?!

She acts like I've betrayed her if I don't tell her that I cut or starved myself, things I don't want to tell anyone.

But she doesn't have to tell me what made her upset!?

What the FUCK!?

How the HELL does she justify that!?

We're supposed to be a team, a couple, support for the other, all the other crappy lies everyone tells each other.

Alright, lovelies, I'm going for a walk because my toes are freezing cold.

And I got new socks yesterday and I want to wear them and my MP3 player is finally fully charged and up and running again so I want to use it and make it die so I have to charge it and I want to cut right now, but I know how upset everyone would be if I did that so I'm not going to.

Ok, walk time. BYES!